


The Way to a Man's Heart

by Reioka



Series: AUgust 2020 [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU-gust 2020, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Tony just wants a Vacation, let this man rest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:47:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26341378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reioka/pseuds/Reioka
Summary: ...is definitely through his stomach. Tony just wants to relax, eat good food, and then bring souvenirs home to all his friends. So he has no idea why he's being arrested(?) by the Dora Milaje.
Relationships: Tony Stark/T'Challa
Series: AUgust 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860847
Comments: 50
Kudos: 908





	The Way to a Man's Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Me: I love Soulmate AUs so this will be really easy!  
> Also Me: Aw no I guess I just love reading them this was pretty difficult actually

The Way to a Man's Heart

The first thing Tony did when Wakanda opened its borders was take a vacation.

Pepper had burst into tears when he told her he was putting in for vacation time, and he’d been about to backpedal furiously, but then she’d clasped her hands in front of her and whispered, “Oh thank God. I hope you get so drunk and happy. I hope you come back with a tan.”

“I am tan,” Tony had said, bewildered, but she’d already been on the phone to Rhodey, who had whooped so loudly that Tony could hear it across the room.

“It hasn’t been that long since I…” Tony had begun, but he could see Pepper’s incredulity, and he could somehow _hear_ Rhodey’s, so he simply muttered to JARVIS to find out the weather and fashion in Wakanda and make the appropriate orders.

Of course, Wakanda didn’t have Hyatt or Four Seasons (they had been very detailed about how just because they were opening borders, that did not mean they were allowing _companies_ to come in). Tony was somewhat bewildered by the little… he could only call it an inn? It was small, but homey, and he could pay a little extra for breakfast, or, the hosts told him warmly, there were many street vendors he could purchase from, and they were happy to give him suggestions.

“I… love all food,” Tony said haltingly, unnerved by how friendly everyone was but not entirely put off by it. In the hotels he usually stayed in, there was what felt like a wall between him and the employees. Here, he was being treated as a welcome guest. It felt… nice.

He got stuffed in a chair and was served a delicious corn porridge that he’d have to ask the name of and a soft, sweet donut that tasted like coconut. He wasn’t given a lot of coffee, but what he was given was strong and fragrant, and they told him coffee was not a drink to be enjoyed alone, which was why he was sitting with their family. The younger children had honey in their drinks, and he watched an older gentleman who was staying down the hall from him put a dollop of butter in his own, and the hostess drank hers black and the host drank his with a pinch of sugar.

It felt wonderful. He felt welcomed, and he wondered if it was because he was willing to follow everyone else’s leads respectfully or if they were all just kind to lodgers. Maybe he’d take vacations more often. He’d like to come back here, if he didn’t overstay his welcome this time.

When he finally got out to the streets, found a market where they sold food and clothes and accessories from carts, he looked for souvenirs first. No one expected them—he’d actually been told in no uncertain terms ‘do not even fucking think about us, just drink a pina colada and relax’—but he saw a lovely pair of sandals, each strap carefully beaded by hand in peacock greens and sunset reds. So he pointed at them and asked, “How much?”

The woman selling them also sold him a lovely leather satchel, and he carefully placed the shoes in it with a happy, “Thanks!”

She nodded, said, “You’re wel—” and then she froze when she saw the soul mark on the inside of his hand, on the phalanx of his left ring finger.

He got that reaction a lot—not many people his age had a soul mark that was untouched by their mate. He couldn’t quite tell what it was, a simple black blob with a circle around it, the circle interspersed with what looked like spikes. The image would sharpen and gain color when his soulmate touched it, but until then it was just a hint of who his mate was. Come to think of it, the hosts at the inn had reacted the same way when he’d introduced himself yesterday before pasting smiles on their faces. They’d seemed a lot more chipper this morning, though, so he’d brushed it off.

Tony wondered what the average age was that people found their soulmates in Wakanda even as he made his way down the street, picking up a souvenir here and there for his friends back home. Statistics varied from country to country, after all—smaller countries with denser populations found their soulmates earlier on average, whereas larger countries with their populations spread out found their soulmates later. Tony, unfortunately, had surpassed that age in America three years ago, and was now the butt of a lot of ‘old maid’ jokes despite being thirty-five.

He was considering whether he should take the hostess of the inn up on her offer for suggestions for lunch when he noticed the group of people blocking his way up the stairs. Tony peeked over his pile of souvenirs and blanched when he recognized them as the Dora Milaje, the elite guards of the royalty of Wakanda. “I haven’t even gotten drunk and been found naked in someone’s fountain,” he blurted out.

One of the younger women giggled and was swiftly quieted with an elbow to the ribs. Another woman, whom he assumed was the leader since all of the others looked to her, closed her eyes, and looked incredibly tired for a moment before she opened them again. “You are not under arrest,” she told him.

“I feel like I’m under arrest,” Tony said.

“You’re not under arrest,” the hostess of the inn said, amused, taking his things from his arms. “I will put these in your room.”

“Well it feels like I’m under arrest,” Tony muttered to himself petulantly. “At least there are no handcuffs.”

“We wouldn’t need handcuffs to restrain you,” one of the Dora Milaje replied. He couldn’t tell which one.

Great, so now he got to trudge wherever they were taking him and worry about intimidating women and fear boners.

.-.-.-.

The Wakandan palace was opulent but not gaudy. Tony didn’t know where to look, eyes darting around, so much so that he didn’t notice the Dora Milaje stopping and he walked into someone’s back with a squawk.

She turned to give him a look that showed how impressed with him she was (that is: not at all) and then stepped to the side, quickly followed by the others. Tony gawked at them in confusion, looking around, then he heard someone clear their throat and turned. He about shit himself when he saw the royal family standing in front of him. He racked his brain for anything illegal he’d done and couldn’t think of one except accidentally asking to lend the host of the inn a pen instead of borrowing one when he’d been trying his Xhosa out on him.

Oh God. Was it illegal for him to enter the country? There were a few where it was hinted very firmly that he did not visit. Was he banned from Wakanda and he just hadn’t been aware of it?

“—rk. …Mr. Stark?” a voice was asking him hesitantly.

“How could I have been banned from Wakanda I’ve never even been here?” Tony blurted out.

“What?” King T’Chaka asked as Princess Shuri immediately began laughing. “You’re not banned from Wakanda.”

Tony frowned in confusion, looking between him and the impassive face of his wife. “Is it illegal for me to buy shoes?”

Queen Ramonda somehow admonished Princess Shuri into not laughing with a simple raise of her hand. “Why do you think it’s illegal to buy shoes?”

“Everyone’s told me I’m not being arrested but I feel like I’m being arrested,” Tony declared.

Princess Shuri started laughing again.

“We simply wanted to meet you,” King T’Chaka told him.

He sounded so reasonable about it that Tony was immediately suspicious. “You couldn’t have just sent me a message?”

“Would you have believed it to be genuine?” Queen Ramonda asked.

Tony opened his mouth, then closed it again, because he had to admit, at least to himself, that he probably would have thought it was a joke. “I still feel like I’m under arrest,” he muttered.

The queen and king stared at him, silent. Finally, though, King T’Chaka elbowed his son sharply. Prince T'Challa shook himself, because apparently he'd just been staring at the spectacle that was Tony. Tony was not offended by this. It happened often.

“Mr. Stark,” Prince T’Challa said, approaching him. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I haven’t done anything,” Tony answered immediately.

Prince T’Challa paused awkwardly, then slowly said, “You’re… Tony Stark. You own Stark Industries. Everyone has heard of you.”

Tony considered this. That was true, he supposed. “If I said you’ve got the wrong man, would I still be under arrest.”

“You’re not under arrest,” Prince T’Challa sighed, exasperated.

“Here I was, minding my own business,” Tony began loudly. “Eating lots of food I don’t know the name of and buying presents for all my friends back home, and I come back to the place I’m staying and there is a large group of heavily armed women who have broken in—”

“We didn’t break in,” the leader of the Dora Milaje said to the rest of the royal family, and Queen Ramonda just kinda… looked very tired, and sighed, and nodded to acknowledge she believed them.

“—and I’m not really given a choice on whether or not I want to come because all of them are armed and I am not,” Tony continued, undeterred, and one of the guards winced, at least, so he took that as a win. “And now I’m having an audience with royalty which I never imagined happening and honestly sort of resent because I am on vacation and just wanted to buy pretty things and eat good food that I don’t know the name of!”

“Yes, I can see how that could be seen as a threat,” Prince T’Challa replied hastily. “We should have—done many things differently. I am sorry, Mr. Stark.” He reached out to gently take Tony’s left hand. “Please let us make it up to you.”

“I don’t see why I should let—” Tony began indignantly, but then he felt tingling in his fingers, and he pulled his hand back to look at his palm.

As he watched, the blurred mark on his finger began to darken, details becoming finer, a soft sheen of purple showing up on his skin at the edges of what was becoming a panther mask. No wonder everyone had given him a second, startled look when they’d seen the inside of his hand—he’d seen the emblem of Wakanda’s royal Black Panther all over as soon as he’d arrived. Of course they’d recognize it even when it was just an undefined blob on his finger.

“Oh,” Tony said after a long, long pause, and then, “Well, this doesn’t change the fact that I feel supremely unwelcome, and also a little bit embarrassed now. And it’s all your fault. So. What are you going to do about it?”

Prince T’Challa gaped at him, stunned, then rubbed the back of his head. “I guess… take you out to eat more food… and tell you the names of it?”

Tony considered the suggestion. “I could go for some food,” he finally decided.

“You could come into the palace and have lunch with us,” Princess Shuri suggested, smiling impishly.

Tony frowned at her. “You are wearing the expression that Pepper always wears right before she tricks me into doing something I don’t want to do. Speaking of!” He turned back to Prince T’Challa and gave him a more severe frown, the one he saved for when Harley broke his window with his potato launcher _again_. “I’ll never live this down. How could you do this to me. Why couldn’t you be non-royalty.”

“I’m sorry,” Prince T’Challa said, but luckily, he looked more amused than offended. He offered Tony his arm so he could lead him back the way he’d come. “How do you feel about goat?”

“I’ll try anything once,” Tony replied, then squawked when he noticed the Dora Milaje following them. “They’re coming too!?”

Prince T’Challa winced. “They… need to make sure I’m safe. As the crown prince.”

“Ugh,” Tony exclaimed, and then huffed mulishly as he let the other man continue to lead him out. “I suppose since we’re soulmates I’ll have to get used to it, but rest assured, I’m going to complain a lot.”

“Somehow, I’m neither surprised nor upset by that fact,” Prince T’Challa assured him. “Tell me about what you’ve eaten so I can make sure you try something new.”

Tony opened his mouth to describe the food that he’d had, but all that came out was, “I watched a man put butter in his coffee.”

“I’m sure it’s shocking the first time,” Prince T’Challa said.

Tony, somehow, knew he wasn’t being condescended to. It was jarring. He’d never considered what it would mean, finally meeting his soulmate. He found he didn’t necessarily mind it, though. Mostly he just felt… complete.

Maybe finding his soulmate had been worth the wait, he thought.


End file.
